


The Dust From Stars

by Calliopinot



Category: Metalocalypse (Cartoon)
Genre: Apocafic, Apocalypse, End of the World, Galaktikon II, Gen, Godklok, Post-Doomstar Requiem, Revelation
Language: English
Status: In-Progress
Published: 2019-05-07
Updated: 2019-05-07
Packaged: 2020-01-23 20:57:05
Rating: Mature
Warnings: Graphic Depictions Of Violence
Chapters: 1
Words: 1,035
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18557716
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/Calliopinot/pseuds/Calliopinot
Summary: These are not men. They have the power of Gods.





	The Dust From Stars

Famine and Conquest, War and Death. About them much is written. They are the harbingers of the Apocalypse, unsealed by the messiah at the end of days to cleanse the Earth of the sins and follies of man. Over one quarter of the world these demigods are given dominion, to kill with sword and with drought and with disease and by the wild beasts of the earth. They are mighty in themselves yet answer to a higher power. Their autonomy is muted. Their domain is limited.

There is a fifth Horseman, who commands a steed unwieldy, an abomination to all those who behold it. The old books dared not record his existence, a Horseman with no design or purpose, no granted authority but that which he appropriates for himself. 

He claims dominion over the entire Earth, to kill men with men and their inherent fallibility, to kill gods with gods and their incorruptibility. This rider pledges allegiance to no one but himself, and to the demons that poison his will.

This Horseman is Evil.

His name is Murder.

 

* * *

  

**THE BLACK RIDER**

He was considered a plague to those who knew him in his youth. Mother and father dismissed him as a rotten thing that was tolerated and not loved, that cursed their household with his very presence.

He was a mistake, or would prove to be. The treasure was bestowed upon them in their youngest child, given the name of the third son of Adam and Eve, who replaced Abel, who was murdered by Cain. That boy, Seth, had the blood on his hands, that of the middle child, the one that died in the fire. So easily the eldest took the blame, and he was stripped of his name and cast out, to walk the streets and starve.

He bore that cross, not honorably, but in resignation. The one they called "Pickles," like the shriveled brined vegetables, like the soused lush he became in his middle years, would make that name a mark of pride. Pickles, the lead singer of a glamorous rock band, and only 18. Pickles, the drummer of an unparalleled death metal band, and only 26. It earned him glory but no approbation from those designated by birth to love and cherish him. He found approval in substances, pills and serums designed to treat illnesses he did not have in effort to salve ones he did.

He would become their god, wielder of pharmaceuticals and psychedelics and disease.

**THE WHITE RIDER**

He was like his elder. Fended for self more days than not. The lone caregiver in his life did the same, in her way, but the nourishment she offered could not be shared between mother and son. So he scavenged in his own home, scrounging scraps from a dinner bought to woo the country's onetime most beautiful woman, scraping the mold from hunks of cheese left unrefrigerated and dousing bread with water so as not to break his jaw.

He was hungry, more days than not.

By his teen years, his tall, lanky figure was highly prized, coveted by girl and boy alike. Inherited bone structure went a long way to ensuring regular meals. But he danced around them, as he curved his lips at the girls and the boys across the table. A lithe frame required maintenance.

When he came into plenty he indulged not in the food but in the flesh, galloping into country after country on his white steed to claim their women—old and young, beautiful and homely.

Legions of his spawn would become his minions as a god, to spread around the world and decimate its resources like locusts to wheat. _Do not damage the oil and the wine,_ the Pestilent one would command, and they would not.

 

**THE RED RIDER**

For the first six years of his life, he remained silent as father and friends, veterans of war, told their tales of blood and glory.

He remained silent before his subjects while their bodies were torn asunder, bathed in their blood, motionless, simply observing. He had presaged their deaths, of course. They elected him their leader and he stood apart while they were slaughtered.

He sat on his throne and feasted while his constituency tore into itself. Civil war on the peninsula, no law, no order, just man battling man for life and property. It was only the cleanse of the cyclone, the voice of the Water God, that stayed the course of this premature catastrophe.

He commanded his own personal armies, legions of men who followed his order without hesitation, knew that they would die but did not fear death. Men armed tooth and nail, men who could and would and did do battle on his behalf.

He would ride into the fray himself, eventually. Not a hero, but an equalizer, a being presaged to lead his brethren against their enemies and destroy those who wished them harm.

 

**THE PALE RIDER**

He had a fondness for dying things. For things nearer to his dominion. The sick and the sad, the soulless and the helpless. They were so like him. It would be three decades before he understood why. But the hint of the demon that dwelt within was known to his forebears – or the people tasked with raising him.

It was evident from the moment he took his mother in childbirth.

The Reverend and his pious wife kept the secret from him, but let him know at every turn. They damned him in the name of saving him, scoring his flesh with instruments of penance in hope of driving out the monster. Confining him below the earth in hope of snuffing out the accursed light.

But none of it worked. The boy escaped their holy grasp, escaped all the way to the new world, where new men would teach him the siren's song of brutality. Where he could play the devil's music to his heart's content. Where death would follow wherever he tread.

 

**THE FIFTH RIDER**

Man takes the life of woman. Man takes the life of self. The child is blessed with the name of Murder.

 

* * *

 

These were who they were in life. In humanity.

In death, and divinity, they would change.


End file.
